


Emergence

by gilraenstar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Characters Added as Applicable, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Mom Ana Amari, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team Feels, Team as Family, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:05:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19435444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilraenstar/pseuds/gilraenstar
Summary: “Recall?” Ana piped up. “Winston ordered a recall?”Angela laughed, pressing her fingertips to her temples in a weak attempt to force the pain out of her skull. “I apologize. You’re both dead. Of course you wouldn’t have gotten the memo.”***Picking up the world starting with Bastet. Stay tuned for some violence, eventual McHanzo and a few other pairings, and a fun slowburn world building experience.Thanks!





	1. Fake Empire

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This first chapter is a rewritten version of Bastet I did a while back. I thought it'd be a great starting point for the world! My main goal with this fic is to really explore a lot of characters with dialogue and such. They're such interesting people and I love bringing them to life in a way that Blizzard doesn't really get a chance to. I have a very solid idea of where this is going, with relationships like McHanzo eventually making an appearance. Basically, I just wanna share what I think the world is going to become once Blizzard finally releases some more lore xD

Emergence  
Chapter I: Fake Empire

Ana Amari was not dead. Ana Amari was also not blind. Not completely. 

Upon her third day of laying motionless at the very edge the flat sandstone building, she lined up her shot. Ana peered through her scope idly, ensuring there would be no interference, that no one had noticed her. She played through security routes once more in her head.

Abdul Hakim contorted his face into a grimace as he spat into a silver rectangle. He cared not for anything other than money and all of Cairo suffered for it. He lined the pockets of fat men with golden rings that struggled against sausage fingers, with gold chains that grew dull from sweat and grease. He did so daily, and with no consequence.

A flash of blue ran through the vision of her scope just as she was about to pull the trigger. Ana dropped down out of site immediately, fearing that she had been seen. Shots rang out loudly through the courtyard, but none seemed to be directed at her. She quickly tore the scope from her rifle. She poked her head up to take stock of the situation.

A man fired at the growing number of bodyguards from the cover of a stone fountain. 76 was emblazoned on the back of his jacket. When he stepped down to reload he turned, and Ana saw the face of a man she had long thought dead.

She slammed her scope back onto her gun and retook her position, firing quickly into the mass of men that were converging on her supposedly dead commander's position. They dropped one after the other. Jack took no time to see his guardian from above, only throwing half a glance in her general direction before advancing forward into the fray.

Even as Jack moved, a wisp of shadow materialized a ways behind. Ana fired. The bullet went through the darkness. After half a second, a man clad fully in black and armed to the teeth stood there, unharmed. The man looked directly at her, his ivory mask peering into her being. Ana froze by instinct. The Reaper. Another soft spoken fairy tale to scare children into their homes before dark. Ana hadn’t honestly believed the rumors.

The man had another target. Jack.

Unaware of the spectre that had appeared behind him, he continued his push. Any guards that were near Hakim had quickly surrounded him when the shooting began. They were yelling orders and shoving to get him out of the fray. Ana threw her rifle over her back, yanking on the strap to keep it close to her body. She scrambled over the ledge, her hands just barely catching the cracks on the stone. She was too old for this shit. Too old for acrobatics and all this shit.

The Reaper stepped forward, holding out in an almost careless grasp, two sawed-off shotguns. He fired once, and the force was enough to bring Jack to his knees. Blood blossomed just under the numbers on his jacket. 

Jack bounced back to his feet, whipping around in time to see an old woman with a gun tackle the Reaper fearlessly. 

Ana ripped the guns from the stunned Reaper’s hands, throwing them aside. She straddled his chest, using her weight to effectively pin him. 

“What are you?” She hissed. 

The Reaper merely chuckled.

Ana slammed her bloodied fingers under the edge his mask, tearing it off. Ragged flesh came with it. Another man she thought dead grinned up at her, his jaw half exposed and his skin rotted. But it was still Gabriel. He laughed, and flickered away just as quickly as he had arrived.

“I think I got them all,” Jack said breathlessly.

Ana stood slowly, processing what she had seen. A body guard shifted off to her right. She thoughtlessly pulled her side arm from its holster and fired. The man fell limp, dead asleep.

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, once we’re done here,” said Ana tiredly. “Did you see where Hakim went?”

“Hover car. Didn’t see which way they drove off.”

Ana forcefully jerked on the strap of her gun. She could hear sirens. “We have to go, Jack.”

The man surveyed the ruins. The fountain had been shredded away by bullets and the ground was littered with copper. Ana could see through the torn remains of his jacket that his wound had barely started to heal. It was a mass of decaying black and green at its center, as if acid was eating away at his back.

“Jack.”

With almost hazy eyes he looked at her. “Let’s go.”

The two jumped the low fence surrounding the manor and made off toward the endless alleyways of Cairo.

Jack took rasping breaths as they ran. “The wound isn't healing. Something's wrong.”

“Keep running. We can't afford to stop.”

Jack said nothing. He kept going, his breathing still labored.

Ana looked back at the man, unsettled by his glazed over expression and his inability to keep up with an old woman who hadn't been genetically enhanced. “Just hold on, Commander.”

Jack scoffed at her word choice.

What was normally a twenty minute walk away from home ended up being a twenty minute run. Ana was unbelievably careful that nobody follow her back to the abandoned necropolis she had come to call home.

Jack collapsed ten yards from the front door and Ana did her best to carefully drag him in. He was much too dense a man for her to effectively carry. Her entire being already ached from sitting still three days, so she wasn’t willing to aggravate it further. Dragging would have to do.

She managed to get him in without too much trouble and lifted him long enough to get him into a cot. 

Ana took a deep breath.

Jack is alive.

Gabriel is alive. To a point.

She quickly sorted these thoughts and quieted the accompanying questions. They’d have to wait just a bit longer.

***

Jack Morrison was not a man who dreamed often. Jack Morrison was also not a man who liked to dwell in the past. Sometimes he couldn’t help but do both of those things. As he slowly came to, he recognized the fading visions of old lives and faces he hadn’t pictured voluntarily in years. He was undecided if the memories were the cause of his nausea or if it was just his half healed wound.

“I thought you’d forgotten about that man a long time ago, Jack.”

He could hear her filling something with water and a spark as she turned on a burner.

“Who?” Jack replied, barely getting the word out. He felt like he hadn’t drank water in months. He’d never get used to the heat here.

“Vincent. At least, I think that’s what you were saying.”

Jack didn’t answer at first. It wasn’t a touchy subject but it also wasn’t his favorite. “He’s married. They’re very happy.”

Ana pulled two chipped mugs from an ancient wooden crate that now served as a cabinet. She dropped a tea bag in each.

“Family is foreign to people like us. Much safer that way.”

Jack shifted on the cot. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here, but it didn’t much matter. It wasn’t the first time he had passed out and found himself some odd number of miles away from where his last memory placed him.

“Why are you here?” Ana asked calmly, tapping her fingers lightly on the edge of her makeshift counters.

“I heard about a bounty hunter in Cairo. One eye and older than hell.”

“You always were a smartass,” Ana chuckled. “So you took a chance? Hoping it would be me?” The kettle whistled lightly, the delicate sound echoing through the large and nearly empty dwelling. She pulled the ornate kettle off the burner and poured their tea. It fit well with the rest of her home. The ancient chamber of the necropolis had been turned into a vaguely domestic space, with military equipment, some basic furniture, and a few antique decorations. Ana was always a sparse woman.

“There was talk that Hakim had a hand in Talon operations.” Jack said. “It was just luck you were there the same day.”

She always disliked how much Jack and Gabe would rely on chance in their younger years. A few mistakes here and there cleared that up after several bad missions. They were the type that learned lessons the hard way.

“I never forgave myself for leaving you behind. We didn’t stop looking for months. Almost a full year.” Jack said, sitting up slowly. He took a moment to get to his feet. He felt weak, but Ana knew by now not to scold him for getting up. He wasn’t going to try anything stupid and honestly if he pulled a stitch it was easier to just redo it then to wrestle him back into bed in the first place.

“You were never good at letting the dead rest easy.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Luckily you weren’t dead.”

“Luck is relative, Jack.” Ana gave him a hard look, her dark eye all but unreadable. 

“Fill in the gaps, Amari. Tell me what happened.”

She set her cup down and sat across from him on a dingy wooden stool. “I had no memory of anything for a long time. They renamed me and I lived as another woman for several years. Things came back to me, slowly at first.” Ana sipped her tea. “It was hard to remember that I have a child.”

“Fareeha is a grown woman now. You’d be proud to see what she’s become.”

Ana tightened her grip on her cup, her knuckles visibly pale. “I know what she’s become.”

Jack quickly looked for a way off the topic of her daughter’s military career. When Fareeha was still little Ana talked about how she prayed to every God under the sun that her daughter would never have to fight to live like she had. She wanted her daughter to thrive, become an artist, an engineer, a musician, anything but a fighter. Ana wanted her daughter to grow into a soft and kind woman who never knew death. Jack was not a parent, but he could understand the beautiful delusion Ana had picked for her only child.

“I cannot direct my rage at her. It’s my own fault.”

Jack looked down at the floor awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. “What have you been doing all this time?”

“When I was strong enough, I left the hospital in Poland and I’ve been here since. I see you’ve become some kind of vigilante as well.”

“Different day, same bullshit.”

“I’m surprised. You were never one to break the rules,” Ana stood and put more water into the kettle. Jack had once seen her drink 9 cups in a day. Her hands never shook from caffeine no matter how much she’d had and he was always envious. 

Jack meandered to a small table that Ana had setup as a display of sorts. Old bits and bobs sat there, meticulously dust free and very well taken care of. Each item looked like something one could find in a museum. “What are these?” He asked, reaching out to touch what looked like a mask.

“I found them when I moved in. They’ve survived the rise and fall of entire civilizations, I couldn’t just get rid of them.”

“Seems a lot of things are surviving past their best by date lately,” Jack muttered, turning away from the table.

“You knew it was Gabriel,” Ana said confidently. There was no malice in her voice. Just the sort of weariness that sleep doesn’t take away.

“Talon is on the rise. Reaper has been tracking me and probably some of the other previous Overwatch members.” He had no contact with any of them, but if Reaper was after him it only made sense. “Intel led me here, where Reaper was supposed to be meeting Hakim for some kind of business deal.” Jack moved sluggishly, his back causing him more pain than he had felt in a long time. He had to sit down. 

“I did my best to patch you up, but the wound isn’t healing.”

Jack cautiously reached to touch the bandages around his midsection. The gauze felt like sandpaper against the deep gashes. “The bullets must’ve been laced with a biological agent. Something to slow the process.”

“You need a doctor. Angela isn’t too far.”

He nearly cringed at the thought of Dr. Ziegler's reaction to them both being alive. He didn’t want to put her through that trauma. Consequently, he would be going through trauma as the doctor would tell him every unhealthy thing he had done since he had his last Overwatch sanctioned checkup. He wasn’t ready for that confrontation.

“No. It’s better we stay ghosts. For now at least.”

Ana had no objection to that. “Someone else, then. You need treatment.”

Jack leaned back on the cot and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the aching wound. “I just need rest.”

***

Ana slipped away silently when Jack reached his fifteenth hour of deathly still sleep. She had very little food and if Jack still ate like he did when he was younger, it would be far from enough. 

On cool nights like this she would play back her favorite memories she had of her daughter. Fareeha had a birthday party on a night like this. Most of Overwatch had shown up and Ana could remember the look of pure joy the little girl had on her face when she saw Reinhardt armour-free for the first time. She couldn’t help but giggle as she pointed at the german and accused him of being ‘naked.’

That was the only time they ever got everyone together for her daughter and she regretted it. In the years coming her daughter grew to be just as bullheaded and stubborn as her mother. Fareeha had told her many times how she was looking into military options and Ana hadn’t known how to take it, so they fought. In the end, Fareeha became what her mother wanted to protect her from.

Occasionally Ana would sit with just her scope on a high building and look down at the complex where she knew ‘Pharah’ to be stationed at, and she would wait. On good nights she would see her leaving for the night, laughing and talking with coworkers. Giza was a bit of a hike, but it was worth it.

She popped up to her customary spot and sat there for several hours. There was no sign of Fareeha, like most nights she went. Feeling no better but no worse, she went to a cheap food stand and bought 20 credits worth of falafel. Hopefully that would be more than enough for Jack.

***

Jack woke up slowly to the smell of something delicious. He was confused. Ana was not a very good cook. 

“Hungry?” she asked, plopping a greasy brown paper bag on his stomach. It was still slightly warm.

“Depends on who made it,” he muttered, smirking. 

Ana from the old days would’ve thwapped him on the back of the head, but she didn’t have that same kind of energy anymore. “I liked you better when you were scared of me. Unfortunate that only lasted a month.”

“It was hard to be scared of you after Rein nearly snapped your spine and you were almost in tears. I hadn’t even seen you smile at that point, much less cry.”

“He did snap my spine. He cracked three vertebrae,” said Ana indignantly. 

He chuckled at her, shaking his head. He rummaged through the bag he had been given. Four warm foil packs. She knew him too well, even after all these years. It took Jack barely five minutes to completely devour the food Ana had brought him. 

“How long was I out?” Jack asked, balling up the paper bag and foil. He chucked it across the room and it bounced off the wall and into the small garbage can.

“Day and a half. How’s your wound feeling?”

Jack stood, mentally checking himself. He certainly felt stronger, more balanced, but the wound was still painful and burned with infection. “Better. Still not healing as quick as it should be.”

“I’ve located Hakim. In a few days when you’ve healed we can set up for another attempt.”

Jack crossed the room in long strides, pulling his tattered shirt and jacket down from the makeshift laundry line where they had been drying. Ana was a professional when it came to getting bloodstains out of clothing. She had even sewn some of the larger tears in his jacket.

“I want you to come with me, Ana. Overwatch needs you.”

Ana turned sharply, unable to contain her glare of disapproval. “Overwatch is gone, Jack. I’m not going to let Hakim continue to drain this city. Reaper came here to see Hakim for a reason.”

“We’re after the same thing, Amari,” Jack growled, his frustration growing. “Hakim is just one head of the hydra. You have to see the bigger picture.”

“What is wrong with you, Jack?” Ana chided. “Does this bigger picture suddenly make the lives of everyone in Egypt unimportant? One head of the hydra can still kill hundreds. Ridding Egypt of Hakim may not end things, but it will give me valuable time to figure something out.”

“Come back home.”

“There’s nothing there for us,” Ana hissed, closing the distance between them. She was half a foot shorter than him, but she never failed to intimidate. She wasn’t scared to get in Jack’s face. “There’s nothing there for me. If I leave now, everything I’ve done here as Shrike will be undone. Cairo doesn’t deserve to suffer.”

Jack sighed tiredly, taking a step back from the irate woman. “Gabriel is probably still looking for us. If we’re going to take down Hakim, we should do it now.”

***

It took fourteen hours to track down the seven safe houses that Hakim had setup throughout Cairo. It took only two more hours of scouting to figure out which one he was holed up in.

They shared a cramped hotel room, and waited.

One by one they slowly snapped up each informant and associate of Hakim that they could, quietly dismantling the framework around the mob boss until he was all but exposed.

Rumours ran through to the remaining pieces of the organization that Hakim was being targeted and he withdrew further underground. But Ana and Jack were patient.

On the eighth day Jack stood in front of grime encrusted mirror, twisted awkwardly to see the wound on his side. It was still struggling to heal correctly, several quarter sized holes still infected and sore. He could probably take the stitches out soon. He pressed freshed gauze to it, using half a roll of medical tape to keep it there. 

“It looks better than it did,” Ana said, throwing him a clean shirt. “Still no sign of Hakim.”

Jack pulled the shirt over his head and walked toward the tall windows. He surveyed the house that was nestled behind sparse shrubs and a rotting wooden fence halfway down the road. They hadn’t seen anyone go in or out for almost three days.

“Have you thought about my offer, Ana?”

The woman sat cross legged by the other window, peering through her detached scope. A cup of cold tea sat at her side. A small parcel sat in her lap, wrapped carefully in canvas.“I have,” She said simply, her hand mindlessly tracing over the small object.

“Still not interested?”

She smirked. “I was never not interested, Jack. You know me better than that.”

Jack takes a seat beside her. “It doesn’t have to be you. Once Hakim is ousted, this city will recover. There are plenty of people who are rising, fighting the broken system. Your daughter is one of those people.” Jack softened his gaze, wishing the woman wasn’t so damn difficult to read. “It doesn’t have to be you,” he repeated with finality.

Ana wordlessly unwraped the delicate package. The old clay mask, adorned with gold and black coloring, depicted what looked to be a regal cat. “Bastet was one of the old Goddesses. She was the gentle protector, but a warrior. When I moved to necropolis, this was one of the many pieces I made sure to keep safe.” She looked up at Jack, her eyes filled with pride and strength. “Shrike was enough for a long time. Bastet will be enough for the future.” 

Jack wasn’t sure what to say. 

Ana immediately snapped to attention, leaning forward and squinting to look through her scope. “That’s him. Let’s go.” She removed the square of cloth covering her bad eye, and proceeded to pull the ancient mask over her face.

“Ready, 76?” She asked briskly, reattaching her scoping and taking aim.

Jack smiled.

***

The capture and subsequent trial of Hakim led to major reform in Cairo. Trade and business prospered, no longer bottlenecked by corrupt leaders and officials. The name Bastet echoed down dark alleyways and when Ana heard it in the streets she couldn’t help but smile.

Upon Hakim’s indictment, Ana made her final decision. She packed lightly, leaving behind almost everything. They sealed the necropolis behind them and with it, the mask of Bastet. It would remain there for years, untouched.

She sat and watched one last time for her daughter in Giza. As the sun rose without catching a glimpse of Fareeha, Jack grew restless.

“Ready, Amari?” He asked gently.

Ana nodded. “It’s time to go.”


	2. Anyone's Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter already! I wanted to put this out with the first chapter considering the first chapter is already posted as a standalone and I had most of the second chapter done in a week. Thanks for stopping by, leave a comment if you want!

Chapter II: Anyone's Ghost

Their third hotel room of the trip was starting to feel cramped. Ana felt herself becoming stir-crazy in that familiar way that was common in her younger years on the job. Normally in those days she would obsessively fold and unfold a picture of her and her daughter. She lost the picture years ago, but her fingers never gave up on the muscle memory.

“Relax,” Jack said brusquely. He tossed her a granola bar.

Ana caught it and set it on the bed. “I’m concerned, Jack.”

Jack gave her a sideways look and sat across from her on the creaky mattress. “About Ziegler?”

Ana stood slowly, anxious to move, but too weary for her speed to match her state of mind. “I’d hate to ask her to leave a good life. She has much more to risk than us.” She walked over to the window, staring out at the dim lights of Modena. It was an old world town, one of many that was being bought out by investors and gentrified. They had taken a quick look around earlier in the day, but Ana missed the charm it had when she visited here almost twenty years ago. Many people had moved on and sold their family business to the highest bidder. Eventually whoever was left of old world Modena would be forced out by inflated prices and an inability to keep up with the changing market. Ana feared there would be a similar revelation with Overwatch. “She has much more to risk,” Ana repeated lamely, shaking her head.

Jack mindlessly runs his fingers through his stark white hair. “She always has. Think she would’ve stuck around after Blackwatch if she didn’t believe it was worth it?”

“This is different,” Ana quipped. It was difficult for her to get into the intricacies of leaving a violent world more than once without harm, but she trusted Jack was smart enough to understand. They both knew more about that world than they cared to admit.

Jack didn’t respond. He walked over, softly laying his hand on her shoulder for a moment before continuing to the bathroom. Ana watched him from the corner of her eye as he gingerly lifts his shirt and twists to examine his wound in the mirror.

“Regardless of whether or not Angela will join us, there’s not much an old bat like you can do about this infection,” Jack mused, attempting to keep the mood light.

Ana turned and crossed the room. A week of travelling and the dime-sized holes scattered across his back and side still refused to close. “This old bat is going to run out of bandages,” she muttered. She dug through the bag she had set at the foot of the bed earlier that afternoon. They only had one more day of travel to get to Zurich, and the bag of medical supplies was certainly lighter than it had been when they left Cairo. 

Ana pulled out another wad of nanite bandages and pads. “Do you still feel nauseous?” She asked, kneeling to get a better angle.

“Not for the past few days, but...” he answered slowly. “I’ve never had any injury last this long, Amari. You know that.”

Ana pressed light at the edges of his wound, watching to see how quickly blood flowed back to the area. She pursed her lips, frowning. “How have you been, Jack?”

The man snorted at the genuine question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ana disinfected the injury swiftly before responding. “I’m just concerned that with age, the serum might-.”

“Might be wearing off?” He offered, giving her a wry smile. “I’ve slowed down a bit, but all things considered, I don’t think that’s the issue.” Jack watched Ana peel a clean pad off the quickly shrinking stack. She gently placed it over the freshly disinfected area and nodded up at Jack. Without a word he took over holding it against the wound so she easily could wind the soft cloth around his midsection. 

“The train leaves for Switzerland in two hours,” He reminded her. “We should get ready to go.”

Ana nodded absently, pondered their mortality, then shuffled the thoughts away like she always did these days. Once she finished securing the bandage, Jack offered her a hand and practically pulled her up off the floor. 

She placed her left over gauze and disinfectants back in her bag. “Do you want aspirin, Jack?”

He waved a hand dismissively at the question. “Save it for the migraine we’re gonna give Ziegler.”

***

The train station bustled with life around them. The two had to push and shove their way through to get to the right platform. 

Ana watched like a hawk by instinct, but no one had tailed them thus far. Though they were far from nondescript, no one questioned scars after the Omnic War. Jack was far from the spry young man on the posters and snipers weren’t meant for the limelight.

“Only the kids would ever notice us,” Jack muttered, as if he sensed Ana’s unease. “They’re the only ones who could pick out a war hero from a crowd, and technically, we’re still dead to the world.”

Ana rolled her eyes, but nonetheless, appreciated the notion. “Eager to start signing baseball caps again, old man?”

Jack chuckled. “That won’t be happening anytime soon.”

By the time they reached their platform, they were able to board the hyperloop train and take a small cabin for themselves. It was starting to look a bit dingy with age and wasn't the fastest mode of transportation any more, but it was cheap.

“Four other stops ahead of us, Amari. Gonna be a few hours. You might as well sleep for a while,” Jack suggested. If he had noticed Ana sleeping less than five hours a night, he didn’t bring it up in conversation. He had found excuses during the day for her to sleep, but she suspected that was just leftover habit from their operative days. Sleeping anywhere and anytime was only an option if someone could watch your back. She still wasn’t used to having someone around in that capacity.

Ana leaned back slowly into her seat, still not letting her eyes slip closed. Any time she got close to sleep, her brain immediately meandered toward the events of the past month. She was used to compartmentalizing, keeping things in check till she truly had time to figure things out, but that only lasted so long. It had been quite a while since she was on the move for an extended period.

Eventually, Jack watched Ana drift off into a light sleep.

He watched the countryside pass by through the hard light windows, but it didn’t hold his attention. He fished around in his duffel for a moment until he found the book he packed, then went through the side pouches to find his reading glasses. 

The two sat like that for three hours before Ana finally woke. She blinked slowly, giving Jack a wry look.

He rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what she was about to say.

“I always knew you needed reading glasses.”

“Watch it, Amari. You squint just as bad as I do.”

Ana genuinely laughed in way Jack hadn’t heard in years. “I have the excuse of one eye, and my squinting is a recent development,” she retorts, still chuckling.

Jack couldn’t hide the smirk behind his book, but he tried. “A monocle for Christmas this year, then?” They gave each other a look before they erupted into unabashed laughter. For a brief minute, it feels like the old days, and the problems at hand seem inconsequential.  
'  
They settle in for the last two hours of the trip, reminiscing and joking about things as the memories surface. By the time they reach their station in Zurich, it’s dark, and both have laughed more in one day than they had six years.

Jack glanced down at his watch, bleary red digits glaring up at him. “It’s about 9. We should probably just go see her tomorrow.”

Ana nodded. “There’s a motel down this way. One of the better ones in the city.”

“After you, Amari.”

***

Her cup of coffee had already been refilled 3 times by 8 o’clock in the morning, but other than her shaky hands, Angela wouldn’t have realized it. She had been doing swing shifts for a few weeks and she never knew when the exhaustion would hit. The largest hospital in Switzerland probably had anywhere from one hundred to two hundred coffee pots scattered across its entire campus. She couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. She’d die of exhaustion if there was coffee on every floor and every break room.

“You should slow down on the coffee, Ang.”

Angela barely disguised her tiny jump of fright. “Oh! Liam.” Her face felt hot. “I was just coming to speak with you.” She kept moving, not fond of wasting time standing around. The sparse off white walls are forming seemingly endless hallways today. Only the occasional abstract painting or sanitizing station broke up the monotony of doors.

The tall man grinned. “If you’re asking me to get you another coffee, the answer is no.” He joked, crossing his arms over his thick chest. “I’m here to tell you someone asked for a physical and he requested you.”

Angela groaned. “I’m on-call for trauma, but I suppose I can take it. Not that I have much choice.”

Her superior followed behind her easily as she speed walked through her normal route. “The guy said he knew you personally. Knew a good bit about your nanites.”

She froze in the doorway of a patient's room. “How much is a good bit, Liam?” Plenty of people knew about her nanites and some of them weren’t friendly. Very few that knew her work knew her personally. Even fewer than that were stupid enough to come where she worked. Her work in nanites are one of the most coveted and well protected pieces of the medical world. Not many had access to even the vaguest parts of her dissertation.

The man shrugged. “Enough for me to allow the girls to give him his appointment today. Normally I would’ve just told him to schedule a few weeks out like everybody else but… It seemed urgent, and it’s a slow day, so I figured it wouldn’t be a big deal.” Liam awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. He knew Angela wasn’t a huge fan to last minute scheduling changes.

It was hard for her to contain her dread. “Did they leave a name?” She asked, almost fearing the answer. 

“The secretary already started his chart. Don’t remember the name.” Liam fumbled with a paper he had folded and stuffed into the pocket of his scrubs. “He asked her to write this out and give it to you, but it makes no sense to me. Just a number.”

Angela took the scrap of paper and unfolded it. “Seventy-six?” She said incredulously. She felt a weird sense of relief. She had expected something from Winston in the days after he sent out his recall, but as far as they were aware, she was in the middle east. 

They should’ve found her actual location quickly, but she was always hoping for more time.

The relief was short lived when she realized she had no clue what the number meant. Anxiety clawed at the back of her throat. She took a sip of coffee to fight it back.

“I set aside a room for you on the fourth floor at 9, I’ll have Anya print out his papers for you.”

She sighed. Being a lowly nurse in a general hospital had very very few perks and this certainly wasn’t one. Most people paid her no mind and if anyone connected her name to her dissertation, it was fleeting and quickly brushed aside. That meant she was just as easily bossed around as anyone else. Being her own 

“You said earlier you were looking for me,” Liam said, breaking up Angela’s thought train.

“Oh. Yeah,” she muttered. “It… it can wait a while, I just might need some time off in a few weeks. But nothing is set in stone. I wanted to give you a heads up.” She gave him a cheerful smile, hoping he wouldn’t read into her anxiety too much.

He smiled back, and nodded easily. “No problem. Just keep me updated.”

Angela went about the next hour finishing her rounds about the ward, finishing in time to grab another cup of coffee on her way down to the fourth floor where the general practitioners took up residence. Though she was only a nurse and very rarely took the role of a doctor, she had her own little office there as well as a small budget for her own research she could use as she saw fit. The hospital was quite aware of who she was and treated her relatively well. She had to turn down multiple promotion offers a month, but they never forced her to take it if she didn’t want to.

She stopped at the desk just outside the elevator, where Anya was patiently waiting for her.

“Hey!” The spritely young girl called out from behind the oak desk. She was young and still much too full of energy, but Angela had taken to her. “I have your charts. Mr. Kaufman and his wife are waiting for you in Room 38.” Angela took the thin file of papers from her and flipped through them half-heartedly. “Not much information. Did they have any files transferred from another office?”

The secretary shrugged. “No. I asked if they had any family doctors over the years and he just said he wasn’t too keen on doctors.” She rolled her eyes, and Angela got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time that Anya received the ‘I hate doctors but my wife made me’ speech. “It’s amazing how many people still refuse modern medicine.”

Angela couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “There will always be those people. Thank you, Anya.” The phone started to ring, but Anya gave her a small wave as she picked it up. 

Room 38 was a short walk toward the west wing of the floor and she patted herself on the back for her timeliness as she arrived there at exactly 9 o’clock. She looked down at her charts as she opened the door, putting on her calming and sweet nurse voice she always used for patients.

“Mr. Kaufman, right? I see you ha-.” Angela stared at the two ghosts in the room. They stared back. She promptly yanked the door back open, walked out and slammed it. She screamed internally for two seconds, tugged at her pale blonde hair, and ripped the door open once more.

“What the fuck.” Angela spat venomously, pulling the door shut with forced calm behind her. Her mind was going eight hundred miles a minute. Jack Morrison and Ana Amari. Sitting in her check-up room. Alive. Otherwise known as not fucking dead. 

“Angela, we know you’re surprised-,” Ana started, her voice low.

“How dare you. Both of you,” she hissed, pacing angrily so she could get in Jack’s face. She glared down at where Ana sat, unperturbed. “We mourned both of you for years. And now you dare to show your faces where I work. For what?”  
Jack didn’t stand down. Angela was half a head shorter than him, but she was by no means unthreatening. “We need a favor,” he said cooly. He was never one to recognize rhetoric.

“I’m not taking part in the recall. I’m not doing anyone a favor,” she snapped. Her head hurt something fierce. 

“Recall?” Ana piped up. “Winston ordered a recall?”

Angela laughed, pressing her fingertips to her temples in a weak attempt to force the pain out of her skull. “I apologize. You’re both dead. Of course you wouldn’t have gotten the memo.”

Ana looked at her mournfully. “I am sorry, child. We had our reasons and we can’t expect forgiveness. We have much to discuss, but little time.”

The doctor sighed and leaned heavily against the counter. She gazed sightlessly at the little jars of cotton swabs and cotton balls, trying to sort her head out enough to let the conversation move forward. “If you aren’t here about the recall, then why are you here?” She finally said, her tone noticeably weary.

“We had a run in with Reaper in Cairo.” Jack shed his jacket. It was so strange for Angela to see them both in basic civilian clothes. She had seen it before on many occasions, but now, it made them seem even less real. She wondered for a moment if all that coffee was just making her hallucinate.

Angela barked out another short laugh, unable to contain it. “Of course. Of course you two were involved.”

“He got a shot off and hit me. It hasn’t healed.”

The blonde woman immediately perked up at that. It was that easy for her to switch back to being a doctor. “That was in the news almost three weeks ago, Jack. What do you mean it hasn’t healed?” She said, her voice strained as she’s already pulling open her drawers in search of latex gloves. She rummaged around for nanite packs and disinfectant spray.

“I mean it hasn’t healed,” he repeatedly blankly. He tugs his shirt off without waiting to be told. Angela waves him toward the crinkly paper covered table and he takes a seat. “It was much worse at first, but after three or four days there was no change. Just a bunch of holes in my back.” Jack fidgeted restlessly on the table

She goes through the motions. Temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, etc. Once she’s done with that, she unwinds the bandages around his waist. The first thing she notices is the acrid and unmistakable scent of rotting flesh. It isn’t overly strong, but it’s still worrisome. She hums to herself. “I’ve seen similar effects to this, but… treating it isn’t always straightforward.”

She gently prodded around the small red circles. The very edges of each were an ashen gray. Jack didn’t flinch, but she suspected the touch wasn’t particularly pleasant. “Normally I’d send away for surgery to remove the necrotic flesh. But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to stick around for that. Our surgeons wouldn’t understand your readings anyway,” she murmured. A few german cusses come to mind, and she has to restrain herself from uttering them all in one long string.

Jack waited silently, knowing that Angela had already figured out another solution. Problem solving was her greatest attribute in most team situations, and she had only gotten quicker with age.

“I’m going to give you one of the stronger nanite serums, a shot I’ll give you now and another that Ana can give you tomorrow around the same time. By then if it hasn’t healed completely, which it most likely won’t, you should be able to get to Overwatch.” She looked through the cabinets for the tiny gold tinted bottle with the correct dosage. Two syringes were procured from sealed packets in another drawer. “Once you get to them, it’s their problem.”

Angela filled both syringes efficiently, capped one and handed it off to Ana. The older woman tucked it away into one of her many pockets. The other was administered with a slight bit more force than needed.

She cleared away the plastic packaging and tossed the used syringe in an orange biobucket. “I’m glad you’re both alive. Honestly,” she said, trying very hard to sound as sincere as she felt. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

Ana held her gaze without a problem. Angela could see the remorse written all over her expression, but she was too frustrated, angry, appalled, and a million other emotions to care. 

“Thank you,”Ana said in a hushed tone. It was clear she had many things she wanted to say, but didn’t want to start anything just yet. She was far too good at reading situations and knowing when it wasn’t quite the time for something. “We can talk another day.”

Angela discarded her latex gloves before reaching into the pocket of her scrubs. She found the quarter sheet of paper with ‘76’ written on it, scoffing as she now understood the number referencing Jack’s serial code for the soldier program. “Here,” she said, clicking a pen and scribbling down her phone number. “I won’t be happy if you call. But I’ll answer.”

Jack accepted the folded paper. “There was word on the grape vine that Winston ordered a recall. I didn’t know if I wanted it to be true, but it makes our job a hell of a lot easier.”

Angela sighed once more, her heart feeling heavy at the thought of Overwatch reuniting. The Lindholms would most certainly be asking after her when they arrived. “He asked everyone to meet in Gibraltar. They think I’m in the middle east currently. But I’m going to give Winston word that you’re headed there.”

Jack and Ana got up from their spots and offered her another thank you.

She was glad to watch them go.


	3. Chapter III: Solidarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, what a wait.  
> I'm going to try to update this more with the extra time our worldwide situation has given me, so let me know what you think! This is unbeta'd so my apologies for any mistakes.

Chapter III: Solidarity

Jesse McCree was not an easily placated man. The news that Ana and Jack were still quite alive was nerve-wracking. Though he knew in a few days the shock would wear off and he would be glad to have some of his closest family back, it was difficult to wrap his head around. He’d shed more than a single tear at the loss of the closest thing he had to a mother, but she was alive.

Winston hadn’t wanted him to be surprised by the sudden arrival of two of Overwatch’s finest (and most deceased) agents. He had received a call from Angela Ziegler at about 2200 hours and waited until everyone had awoken on base to call in a conference. The conversation was awkward and stilted. Lots of apologies and I know this must be hard to hear’s being thrown in with very little information on how or why. Jesse listened quietly, his mouth a thin line. He asked tersely where they were and when they’d arrive. When Winston answered that they’d be here in only two days, he had to take a deep breath. He needed longer than that to prepare.

Reinhardt was equally taken aback by the information. And though McCree had seen the man cry before, he had never witnessed something quite as raw. The freight train of a crusader let out a pitiful sob and crushed Winston in a bear hug.

“Darling Ana,” Reinhardt had wailed, holding a surprised Winston tight to his chest. “She lives!” It was all he managed to say. Though there were tears, McCree could see that he was smiling.

Brigitte, the only other person at the base, hadn’t really known what to do either. She knew Ana and Jack through her father. She had seen them for holidays quite often, but she was still barely a teenager when they had supposedly passed in the line of action. By that time, she had already noticed a fair share of the people at the Christmas parties no longer showing up year after year. She had watched Reinhardt react with a faint smile, but said nothing.

He had to walk away at that point. While McCree could recognize the relief and joy of knowing Jack and Ana sidestepped their respective deaths, he couldn’t ignore the unadulterated anger he felt. It had been six years without a word from either of them. It was infuriating that they could drop their lives and so effortlessly pick them back up.

It meant that they could do it again.

That was the part that made Jesse so angry and even anxious. There was nothing that kept them here the first time. Nothing that was important enough for them to reach out. No one was important enough for them to break the silence. The loyalty instilled into him by the gang he spent his first 16 years of life involved in was hardly going anywhere. It made grudges easy to hold.

Regardless, he wasn’t surprised that this was something Jack would pull. Blackwatch had been a ticking bomb and Jack had handed it off to Reyes and ran. He had made it seem like he had little choice. McCree knew the man was smarter than that. Jack may not have had the details, but he was very aware of the near criminal presence Blackwatch exuded.

It was near the farthest bunks of the western wing that Reinhardt would find him hard at work and deep in thought.

“Winston asked me to call you forth to lunch,” Reinhardt said, unintentionally boisterous. “I’ve made a wonderful stew for us.”

McCree set aside the box he was hauling and offered a small smile. “I’m not too hungry, big guy. Tryin’ mighty hard to gussy up all these rooms before the week is out,” he said, hoping that Reinhardt would take the hint that he wasn’t interested in company. 

Reinhardt sat on one of the metal crates.“It’s been a long time, Jesse. Surely the rooms can wait?”

McCree knew obstination when he saw it. “Look, I’m not in much of a mo-.”

“Are you angry they’re alive? Or angry they left us for so long?”

Jesse bristled instantly. Though the german was often loud and appeared oblivious to outsiders, he was unbelievably good at reading the people he was close to. He might seem like a large and sometimes unwieldy oaf, but the german was one of the most intelligent men McCree had ever met. Regardless, he still hadn’t learned subtlety. 

“Both,” McCree responded stiffly. He wished he had his hat with him, so he could take it off and fiddle with the brim. It would also give him an excuse not to look at the other man.

Reinhardt threw his hands up in the air in defense. “I understand you are upset, my friend. But for them to be alive is far too much good news for me to be angry.”

McCree continued his work clearing up the base and getting things running. He was uncomfortably aware of the eyes fixed on him. He ducked down, emptying a few boxes of recyclable biotic canisters into a larger bin. The monotonous act of taking inventory, disposing of useless items, and cleaning entire sections of the base at a time wasn’t enough to slow his thoughts.

“It ain’t right,” McCree muttered, dropping the box he had just cleaned out on top of another stack in the corner of the room. “That they can jus’ disappear like that.” He had a million ways to express that same thought, but his brain could barely spit the words out as simply as he did.

Rein nodded sadly. “I have missed them more than you know. But they’re back. And that’s enough reason to forgive them.”

“Does Fareeha know?”

Rein’s expression darkened visibly. “I considered calling her but… Her mother should be the one to contact her. I dare not interfere.” His large hands folded together into a thoughtful fist under his chin. 

Jesse sighed and took a seat next to the man. He was still immeasurably upset, and that was just another blow. Her own daughter didn’t even know. Jesse could almost understand how she could so remorselessly leave Overwatch behind, but her own blood? That was a whole new level of apathy. Fareeha and Jesse had practically grown up together. 

“It’s real hard. Knowin’ they didn’t choose us. Don’t right know what they chose.” He absently flicked the spurs on his boots. They whirred around and clinked quietly while he waited for Rein to give him any kind of explanation. He knew the german didn’t have one.

“We can’t know until they arrive,” Reinhardt said solemnly. He clapped a hand on McCree’s back, instantly brightening his tone. “Lunch will be getting cold. Join us.”

The walk back to the cafeteria was much more lighthearted, and McCree was grateful. Spending so much time on the open road left little chance for emotional conversation and he hadn’t missed it. From that train of thought sparked a realization that Ana and Jack probably felt a similar way. Being alone was certainly easier in many ways. It made it a bit easier to recognize why they did what they did. He squashed the feeling down, allowing himself the chance to be angry for the first time in a long time.

“Jesse!”

A blue flash practically tackled him into one of the shortest hugs of his life. “Ow!” The flash squeaked.

The blue flash blinked several steps back, and Jesse couldn’t help but smile at Lena as she stood in front of him, rubbing at her ribs. “You’ve got that fancy new metal arm, nearly broke my ribs,” she chattered loudly. Her volume control hadn’t gotten any better. “Don’t you go think that’ll get you out of hugs, mate!”

Jesse chuckled, warmth blossoming in his chest. “I didn’t think it would now, darlin’.”

Lena’s expression softened as she gently punched his metal arm. The dull tone rung out, but even without fully functioning nerve endings he could sense the worry the action held. “You’ve kept busy, I suppose?” Lena said, still maintaining a bright demeanor.

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. He ruffled her hair. “Busy as a baker makin’ pies for the holidays.”

Lena immediately blinks backwards from the assault and pushes her hair back into place. She sticks out her tongue at him, blowing an obnoxious raspberry in his direction. 

Jesse smirks as she blinks right back in front of him. “Now how about you, sunshine? Find somethin’ shiny to keep your attention for a while? New job, new place?”

Lena shrugged as they made their way through the ghost town of empty chairs and tables in the dining hall. In the glory days of Overwatch they averaged two hundred on-campus agents at any given time. Since then dust was the main inhabitant of this outpost and doubtlessly it was the same way at all the others.

“Same place, sort of the same job, and the like. Not much has changed with me,” Lena said thoughtfully and they trekked through the swinging door of the kitchen. Reinhardt had already found his way back and was stirring his homemade stew proudly.

Jess picked two bowls off the pile on the counter that Rein had set out and handed one over to Lena.

He could afford to set anxiety aside for a while to catch up with old friends.

***

Ana was no stranger to nightmares. She studied PTSD and its symptoms out of some morbid curiosity years ago, and quietly noticed some traits in herself and others. 

Jack was always an anxious wreck outside of his war riddled comfort zone. She would drag him out to bars when they were younger, until she knew better. He would lock up and go mute until they returned back to base, jumping at any noise. Ana learned very quickly that Jack was not able to be a social person unless it was a role he needed to play. 

Gabriel suffered from insomnia to the point of needing medical intervention on few occasions, but this wasn’t uncommon on base. Sleep aids were found as easily as sand in a desert.

Reinhardt suffered extensively at the cost of his large heart. It was one of the few things that never failed to make Ana feel panicked and worrisome. Hearing one of her oldest friends sob over a fallen comrade in the dead of the night while everyone else slept was enough to make her shed a tear as well. She took to comforting him on those nights when she was able. Anything to help the towering German find some peace.

Ana’s own burden always found her at night. Angela insisted many times that it was a result of bottling away emotions and Ana easily saw the reality in that. This did nothing to prompt her into therapy or any other program. She was a private person from a private family. Your problems were your own and everyone else’s would be yours too. Be neighborly, Ana’s mother would say. Be neighborly, but don’t show them your own issues. It’s impolite. Over the years Ana had improved with opening up to some people. It was still a far cry from normalcy, though.

Even now, with Jack within arms reach, it took time to slow her heart rate and forget the bone white face that haunted her minutes prior. It had been so long since she had to fight a familiar face. So long since she had to revisit such painful memories. So long since she had seen her daughter smile.

Ana quietly lay back down to rest, her attention focused on Jack’s breathing. She wasn’t sure if she fell back asleep or merely drifted off.

Within two hours, the sun rose and she got up to make tea. There was no stove for her to put her own kettle on, but there was an old electric kettle that worked well enough. She pulled two chipped mugs from her duffel bag and lined them up carefully, dropping a tea bag in each.

The room was dingy. A single queen bed with garish teal sheets, dusty curtains, and a stale aroma that even open windows couldn’t help. She glanced at each entry way, looking for signs of a stealthy entry or intruders. A hard habit to break. No one knew they were here and no one was looking for them. Except maybe Gabriel. She let her gaze drift over the two long windows and the balcony door again, all still locked.

“You get any sleep?” Jack asked gruffly. Ana turned from her spot at the counter to see him pushing himself up onto his elbow in bed. His hair stuck up oddly and she had to look past  
the wide scar across his face. Even ghosts change.

“I did,” Ana replied. “But the sunrise reminded me that we have places to be.”

If Jack scoffed, he did so quietly enough that she didn’t hear it.

“This hyperloop should take us the rest of the way to Gibraltar. Then it’s just a hike out till we hit the perimeter. Do you feel up to it?” She asked. The kettle rumbled and she pulled it from the base to pour the steaming liquid into each of the cups. 

Jack pushed the offensively bright covers back and stood. He stretched with a grimace. “Seems to me we don’t have a choice.”

Ana rifled through the provided sugar packets until she found the ones that held actual sugar. She tore them open and dumped four into Jack’s mug. She stirred them both and made her way to the bed. She set both down on the particle board nightstand.

“Is it still that sore?” She asked, crossing the room again to find her medical bag.

“It’s better than what it was. But the feeling of being wounded for this long makes me anxious.” Jack admitted, worry clear in his tone.

Her bag had little in it that could fix the stress and they both knew that. Ana still removed the bandages, cleaned the wound again, and reapplied clean cotton pads and gauze. 

“I had nightmares, for the first time in a few years,” Ana said solemnly. She packed up her materiels while Jack pulled his shirt on. She couldn’t prescribe something to ease his anxiety, but she could provide some solidarity. “Seeing Gabriel took me back to a very traumatic time.”

Jack only nodded, his eyes hard and unseeing as he looked past her toward something she wouldn’t be able to see if she turned around. “It’s not Gabe anymore, Ana.”

His eyes came back to focus and the intensity took her off guard. She wasn’t familiar with the expression his face held. 

“He knew it was me, Jack. Part of him is still there.”

Jack dropped her gaze. He went to his own bag and searched through it, before resoluting zipping it shut and tossing it on the bed. “I need to believe there isn’t anything left. Or else this all falls apart.”


End file.
